April 26, 2013


That was better, but I need to change the focus a bit and add something that drives the characters...
The Cold War between the Kiiote and the Yown’Hoo has become a shooting war. The only way to stop it is to lock Kiiote, Yown’Hoo and Human into an interlocking matrix of need – to create “super beings” capable of not only living together, but combining three different technologies into one.
The Triads are made up of the smallest primate tribe of Humans –two.
The Triads are made up of the smallest canine pack of Kiiote – six.
The Triads are made up of the smallest camelid herd of Yown’Hoo – eleven, a prime number.
On Earth, there are three Triads – one in the US, one in India and one in China.
Protected by the Triad Corporation, they intend to integrate not only the three peoples and stop the war that slaughters Humans and devastates their world, but to stop the war that consumes Kiiote economy and Yown’Hoo moral fiber (literal in their case).
According to the best and wisest of the Triad Societies, the Merger of Human-Kiiote-Yown’Hoo into a single, multi-faceted Congenic (corresponding, matching) will produce a stable construct capable of incredible expansion, creativity, stability, longevity...and wealth – for it seems that it is the Three alone who inhabit the Milky Way.
It is a matter of faith among the highest class of Herd, Pack, and Tribe; the Masters of Culture that the Merger will be the crown of Masters career, planned since the accidental meeting of Pack and Herd. When Tribe was discovered, Herd and Pack fought for free reign to train the Tribe – and have not stopped since.
Now Tribe is in danger of being subsumed in the war between Pack and Herd which is out of control.

The bus stopped again. Outside were six of the alien, canine Kiiote and eleven of the even more alien, Yown’Hoo.
Our mates, members of the American Triad. The bus driver looked back at us, then hard at ‘Shayla and said, “You know ‘em?”
“They were supposed to be with us, but we ditched them.”
The woman grunted, no longer amused and opened the door, lowering the ramp for the lumbering, llama-like Yown’Hoo.
 ‘Shayla looked at me and said, “What’s that?”
I lifted my chin toward our mates and said, “I’m scared. How about you?”
We locked gazes, then she sighed and slid closer to me. Leaning her head on my shoulder, she said, “I think that’s an awful powerful thing to have in common.” We pulled apart as our alien mates got on the bus and started talking in the mixed up language only Triads understood. Despite how much I liked ‘Shayla, I relaxed as we separated. I’d been with my mates since we were all born. They were my friends.
The last Yown’Hoo in walked past me and with one of its strong manipulating tentacles, smacked me in the arm and whistled, “Idiot!”
I slugged him back and said, “Snotugly!” Zei-go and I had squabbled since the first time he snapped me on the butt in the shower with his tentacle. In retaliation, I glued one of his hoofs to his nesting box while he slept, we were fast friends.
The Kiiote that crouched into the seat behind me poked me with her prehensile tail and said, “Deviate!”
I jerked my head back, catching Xurf’s tail between my neck and the bus seat and said, “Jealous?” She couldn’t help but yelp.
The rest of the Pack – all five – and the rest of the Herd – ten – squeezed into the bus, pushed and shoved, a sort of miniature Hot War canned and shaken as the bus whined away from the curb.
‘Shayla fought her way through the jostling mob to Oscar and jabbed the broad paw of Qil, the female she argued with and physically wrestled with. The Kiiote yelped and put her paw in her mouth. ‘Shayla snarled victory in the unique creole of English, Ki, and Zhay-wah. Qil backed off, snapping at the omega pup, Towt. Leaning over to Oscar, she said, “Sorry about flipping you back there. But you still haven’t answered my question.”
Oscar looked at her then out the window as he said, “I didn’t tell you...” He choked on the words.
She startled him, his head bonked against the window as she leaned closer to her and said, “Why?”
“The war came despite what we were supposed to do.”
She barked a laugh which sounded so much like a Kiiote dirty word that all the big-headed coyote-like muzzles, and large ears, with fur that ranged in color from wheat to chocolate, turned with quick blinking, golden eyes turned to the two Humans by the window. She exclaimed in English, “Of course it came!”
He looked at her, “What? You expected the Yown’Hoo and the Kiiote would get along in snuffling, spitting peace just because we started the Triads?”
“Yes. It’s what the Masters of Culture have foreseen!”
“They don’t foresee anything, they study trends and societal movements among their people then cross-reference, study more, check their facts, program zettabytes of memory data then allow the strings to wind, tie and knot. There’s no magic there.” He turned to stare at her.
“You knew?”
“I’m not one of the Masters. I didn’t know – but it seemed likely.”
“What are we going to do?”
“You and I aren’t going to do anything.” She nodded to the brawling mob on the bus, and said, “But maybe it’s time for us all to do something.”

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